


Every Last Second

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kissing, M/M, PWP, The Last Jedi setting, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Finn swallowed thickly, and wanted to say a hundred thousand other things—to voice every insecurity and fear just so Poe could look him in the eye and state the obvious.  But they didn’t havetime.  Finn’s ship was leaving in less than ten minutes.  So instead he said, “Kiss me.  Give me something to take with me, so I don’t forget.”  And maybe it was an insult, an implication that so far anything about Poe was forgettable—because it wasn’t.  Whatever happened to Finn, he would spend his last breath remembering all of this.  Every last goddamn second.





	Every Last Second

**Author's Note:**

> For my BFF <3
> 
> Maybe this is AU. Maybe this is canon. I guess we'll find out in December, but even then Disney can pry this ship out of my cold, dead hands.

He could do this. He wasn’t _afraid_. He couldn’t let himself be afraid. Not after everything, not after…

The scar along his back twinged. A barely-there thing which the bacta had healed like there had never been an injury at all. Like the monster of the First Order hadn’t taken a light saber and seared his flesh, and severed his spine, and nearly took everything from him. He was pretty sure whatever he felt was all in his head. On warm nights in his bunk with Poe’s hands touching him _everywhere_ , he didn’t think about it at all.

But staring at himself now, in the vicious black uniform of the people who had stolen him from his family, who had conditioned him, who had killed the only people he could remember loving, the only people who he could remember loving _him_. Rey’s face bubbled to the surface, terrified, relieved when they’d come for her. Bruises along her temple, wounds on the inside still festering from what that monster had done to her.

His hands stopped shaking as he affixed the last button and reached for the hat.

Staring at himself in the polished glass—a man he might have been if he’d stayed. He’d been on track for it—though his reluctance to kill, to be the machine they wanted him to be would have always held him back, they knew he was smart enough. They knew he’d been good enough to wear this outfit, to stand as something more than a faceless drone in a white mask.

His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat.

_He could do this._

“Finn.” The voice, like a soothing balm, drifted through the vent above the door, and Finn reached for the panel.

The door snicked back into place, and he stepped into Poe’s rooms. _Their_ rooms, even if it wasn’t official yet.

Poe was in a chair, boots still on, flight suit still musty and oil-blackened from the docking bay. He looked more exhausted than Finn had ever seen him look. He looked as exhausted as Finn felt. His beard had grown in thicker than he usually let it. His hair, gone so long without a trim was now settled into soft pincurls along his forehead and temple. Finn wanted to settle himself on Poe’s lap, to let those curls wrap round his fingers as he pushed his tongue into Poe’s mouth.

There wasn’t time for that now.

There was barely time for a stiff goodbye before Finn would be on a ship, before he would be…out there. Doing what he could, with no guarantee he’d ever see any of them again.

It ached like nothing ever had.

His knees felt like they were going to buckle, and maybe that showed on his face, because Poe was up in an instant, grabbing him by the waist, crowding him up against the door until his knees locked and he steadied. “You wanna talk to me?”

Finn’s eyes closed, and his breath left in a short gasp. He shook his head. This was no time to fall apart, no time to let emotions get in the way. This was no time to tell Poe how much he was going to miss him, and how much walking away felt like cutting off a limb, and how much he couldn’t find it in himself to be certain they were going to win this.

No matter what history showed.

Because the dark side was a goddamn hydra and every time the light cut off a head, two more grew back in its place. Victory, as the holos Finn studied told him, was always temporary.

No one had been given their happy ending. 

Not Luke.

Not Han.

Not Leia.

He breathed in. Breathed out. His hand came up and touched the five o’clock shadow on Poe’s face, feeling it abrasive against the pads of his fingers, felt the echo of it against his thighs the night before as Poe had settled between his legs and taken Finn’s cock into his mouth and sucked him so hard and so good he actually cried.

Licking his lips, Finn called up whatever courage he had and said, “I hate seeing myself like this.” And _oh_. There it was. Another fear he’d repressed because it was too ugly to think about, but Poe seemed to be able to do that—to draw out of him whatever he was hiding in the dark recesses of his mind. “I’m afraid it’s going to…trigger something.”

“It won’t.” Poe said it so simple, like it was an indisputable fact. Like how the sun on this planet would rise and set. Like how gravity on this planet would keep them grounded. And that Finn would never give back in to Order conditioning. “You got away, on your own. You broke your conditioning _on your own_. You’re too strong for them, and they know it. You can do this.”

Finn swallowed thickly, and wanted to say a hundred thousand other things—to voice every insecurity and fear just so Poe could look him in the eye and state the obvious. But they didn’t have _time_. Finn’s ship was leaving in less than ten minutes. So instead he said, “Kiss me. Give me something to take with me, so I don’t forget.” And maybe it was an insult, an implication that so far anything about Poe was forgettable—because it wasn’t. Whatever happened to Finn, he would spend his last breath remembering all of this. Every last goddamn second.

But Poe merely smiled, and cradled Finn’s face between his hands like he was precious, like he was something worth treating gently, and softly. The kiss was none of those things, however. It was not soft, it was not gentle, it was not forgettable. It was just this side of desperate, Poe’s teeth sharp in his bottom lip, his tongue probing and wet and sloppy, making Finn’s toes curl in his boots, making a moan rip from his chest as his hips involuntarily moved outward, seeking friction, seeking _anything_.

Poe did not disappoint there, either. He did not hesitate. He shoved his knee between Finn’s thighs, wrenching his knees apart. His hands, which had been so delicate before, were now insistent and firm as they reached for the zip, as they left every oppressive inch of clothing against Finn’s skin _except_ his achingly hard cock. It was a heavy weight against Poe’s palm. Throbbing, head poking out of the foreskin and leaking as Poe circled his fingers and let Finn’s thrusting hips do most of the work.

“Yeah, babe,” Poe urged, kissing and biting along Finn’s neck. “Yeah. Do it. Fuck my hand, babe. Please.”

Finn was wet under his foreskin, making an obscene noise which was almost too soft to hear, but not quite, and it was just enough to throw him close to the edge. He gripped Poe’s shoulders and buried his face against the side of Poe’s hair. He breathed him in—the scent of space and ship and Finn’s soap. He groaned, deep and throaty as he rammed himself into Poe’s hand, his orgasm building and cresting.

“Yeah, babe,” Poe urged. “Come on me. Come on.”

It was a request that sounded like a command and only in this moment of vulnerability and want, did Finn give in. His hips stuttered and he felt himself pulsing and spilling. Only then did Poe’s hand actually move, drawing the last of it out until he became too sensitive to stand touch anymore. He hissed, and Poe pulled his hand away, wiping what was left on the flight suit he would discard not long after Finn was gone.

Tucked back into his uniform, apart from the hot flush in his cheeks, there was not a single sign of what happened. Except, maybe, the slump of his shoulders. And except, maybe, the soft look in Finn’s eyes as he finally met Poe’s gaze. His hand moved up, touching Poe’s cheek again, drawing him in for a kiss much softer—a promise, in a way, that it would not be over. Not if he could help it.

“You’re going to do great, and get us what we need, and when we get back I’m going to lick you out for so long you beg for my dick,” Poe promised. “Then we’ll sleep for three days and eat in bed, and people will start to wonder if we just fucked each other to death.”

It was enough to startle a laugh out of him, to break the melancholy. It was a lie—or well, it might be a lie. Finn couldn’t be sure because none of them could see the future—and the ones who could were silent and angry and refusing to say a word.

But it was enough. “Yeah. Just…promise me you’ll keep safe, yeah? I don’t want to come home to a sad robot and a burnt-up jacket.”

Poe rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he dragged Finn in for a last kiss. Finn’s comm buzzed in the middle of it, reminding him he still had somewhere to be, and he could not miss this flight. He had no choice.

“You got this, bud,” Poe said.

With a last, long look, Finn turned toward the door. He looked forward then, and carried the promise with him, all the way to the flight deck.


End file.
